Somewhere in Fort Carolina, a bell was ringing.  For once, it was not ringing to warn, or to call men to action, and the long, sonorous peals echoed over the British encampment. 

            The bell roused William from his sleep.  He sat up abruptly and fought to free himself from his twisted blankets.  He was breathing hard, and he could still feel the chill of the snow that had covered his own lonely grave.  Forcing down the panic that still clung to him from the dream, he grasped at the familiar bedclothes. 

            “My own quarters... my own bed...  I’m back,” he murmured. 

            The plain wooden floor was cold against his bare feet, but he ignored the chill and went to the window.  More snow had fallen in the night, and the fort and its surrounding grounds looked as if they had been covered by a pristine white mantle.  He could see a few soldiers moving around down below, and a sudden discomfiting thought occurred to him.  It felt like an age since he had received his Christmas Eve visit from Richard, and he had no way of telling how much time had passed while he was with the spirits. 

            He threw his coat over his shoulders and rushed out into the hall.  He literally ran into the first person he saw, a young serving maid who was coming out of another room with a bucket of ashes in her hands. 

            “Terribly sorry, Sir!” she exclaimed when she saw with whom she had just collided.  “I didn’t see you...”

            “Never you mind.   Just tell me, what day is it?”  William said, a little more brusquely than he intended.  Her eyes widened a little.  William took a deep breath, remembering that he had a reputation with the staff for being a rather unpleasant fellow, and said, “I’m sorry that I startled you.  It is simply... very important that I know what day it is.”

            “Why, it’s Christmas Day, Sir,” she said, looking at him a little strangely. 

            William smiled, and the girl gaped at him in surprise.  Not one of the servants had ever seen the Colonel smile before.  “Of course!  Of course it is... Thank you,” William said.  “Now, would you mind running an errand for me?  That is, if it wouldn’t take you away from your duties and get you in trouble.”  

            “Your room is the last whose hearth needs cleaning,” she said.  “So I’d be happy to help you.”

            “Excellent,” William said. “Now, what I need for you to do is go down to the kitchens and...” He leaned in close and whispered a few sentences in her ear.  Before she left, he dropped a coin in her hand, and the girl stared at it, dumbfounded.  It was not a small coin. 

            “Yes, Sir!  Right away, Sir!” she promised as she scurried away. 

            “And a Merry Christmas to you!” William called after her.

            William stood alone in the hallway for a moment, grinning like a fool.  A door slammed in another part of the building, and he shook himself.  He had much to do, and little time in which to do it.  He strode purposefully back to his room. 

            When he emerged some time later, he was, as usual, simply but impeccably dressed.  However, all who saw him making his way through the fort looked twice at him as he passed.  There was a lightness to his step that was unlike him, and a secret half-smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. 

            In short order, he stood before the door to General Cornwallis’ study.  The servant at the door greeted him with a stiff bow. 

            “If the general is in, I would like to speak with him,” William said. 

            The man nodded perfunctorily and disappeared inside the study.  When he returned, he gestured for William to enter. 

            “Thank you, and a Merry Christmas to you,” William said.  He was almost coming to enjoy the shocked look that came over people when those words passed his lips. 

            Cornwallis sat behind his desk.  There was a cup of steaming hot tea at his right hand, and a stack of papers at his left.

            “Ah, Colonel Tavington.  What is it?” the general asked. 

            William met the Cornwallis’ eyes.  If he were going to apologize, he wasn’t going to do it looking at the floor like a bashful boy. 

            “Regarding our conversation yesterday, Sir.  About Christmas... and the invitation that I refused...” 

            Cornwallis folded his hands under his chin.  “Yes?”

            “I have had... an opportunity to think a great deal, and I have... come to the conclusion that I have been mistaken about... many things, the value of Christmas among them.  And, I had hoped, that if the invitation you extended to me yesterday still stood, that I might join you and the other officers for Christmas dinner.”  This last part came out in more of a rush than he might have wished, but Cornwallis graciously refrained from commenting on his obvious discomfort. 

            “I’m glad to see you’ve changed your mind,” the general said.  “The invitation still stands, Colonel.  I would be happy to see you at my table today.”

            “Thank you, Sir.”  William gave Cornwallis a genuinely grateful smile, and when he left, Cornwallis stared after him with a bemused look upon his face. 

            Tavington made his way to the kitchens, where the girl he had spoken to earlier handed him a heavy sack.  He thanked her and ventured out into the cold. 

            The tents were full of activity by this hour of the morning.  William had a bit of difficulty finding the place he sought, but everyone was cheerful and open-hearted, and he had no problem finding a person willing to direct him where he needed to go.  

            Robert was stooped over the cook fire when William approached, and he did not see him coming.  William concentrated for a moment and forced his face into a harsh and serious glare.  When he was ready, he cleared his throat loudly.  Robert looked up, saw him standing there, and nearly tipped his family’s breakfast into the fire. 

            “Colonel... Sir!” he exclaimed. 

            William wanted to laugh, but he managed to keep his expression fierce. 

            “I do believe that one of us forgot something yesterday, hmm?” he asked in the most condescending tone he could muster. 

            “Forgot?  Sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine what... Your clothes were clean, everything was polished, and I thought that you were satisfied with my services...”

            “Enough!”  William said, interrupting him.  He set the bag he carried down at his side, taking care to keep it closed.  “This cannot go on, Robert.  It is simply unacceptable.”  Martha emerged from the tent, having heard the sound of the Colonel’s voice.  She cast a worried glance at her husband. 

            “Sir, if I have been remiss I sure that I can...”

            “You leave me no choice, but to...” William paused for a moment and nudged the sack open with his foot, “provide you and your family with Christmas breakfast.” 

            Robert and Martha both looked at William as if he had been replaced by a changeling. 

            “Robert, look!” Martha said.  She began to pull items from the bag.  “Fresh bread, still warm from the oven by the feel of it, some salted pork, a cut of beef, some sausages, a sack of potatoes...”

            “There are extra blankets and some other foodstuffs, as well,” William said quietly. 

            “What a feast we’ll have!  Martha dear, wake Sarah for me, would you?” Robert asked.  He still looked like a man whose entire world had been turned upside down.  “What can I say to thank you, Sir?”

            “I deserve little thanks.  This is something I should have done long ago.”  William pulled a small purse of money from his pocket.  “This is something I should have done as well.  I will be raising your salary, and I ask that you consider this sum... as payment for services well rendered, but poorly compensated.”

            If possible, Robert looked even more flabbergasted.  Before he could find his voice, Martha came out holding Sarah in her arms.  She regarded William with wide, trusting eyes.

            “Is this the nice man who brought us such wonderful things to eat and drink?” she asked. 

            “He is,” Martha told her.  She looked down at Robert, who was rummaging through the food, and sighed.  “Would you mind, Colonel?” She held Sarah out to William, and he awkwardly accepted her.  “Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable,” she urged him.  She then knelt down beside her husband and commenced giving him directions. 

            In all his life, William Tavington had never once held a child, and he had not the slightest idea of what to do with her.  She was light as air and delicate as glass.  He sat down slowly, worried that he might hurt her.  Sarah giggled at his confusion. 

            Without warning, she wrapped her small arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

            William flinched.  He had received wounds from enemy bullets with more stoicism.

            Martha shooed Robert away from the fire, and he sat down on the fallen log beside William.     

            “Guess she’ll be handling things, then,” Robert murmured.  He reached out and stroked his daughter’s soft hair. 

            “I’m going to see about having you and your family moved to one of the more permanent structures in the fort,” William said. 

“Do you really think they’d find room?” Robert asked.

“I plan to make certain that they do,” William said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.   “On account of Sarah’s health, and because, as an officer, I’m entitled to have my servant close at hand.” 

“That would be... most kind of you,” Robert said. 

William smiled and shifted Sarah in his arms.  “Merry Christmas, Robert.” 

“And a Merry Christmas to you, Sir!” 

Turning his face towards a pale sun in a clear sky, William said, “It is indeed.”  He carefully handed Sarah back to her father.  “I must take my leave now and let you enjoy your day with your family.” 

Sarah waved at him over Robert’s shoulder as he walked away.  Shyly, he raised a hand and waved back at her. 

.....

            William arrived at the General’s quarters just as Cornwallis and the other officers were sitting down to eat. 

            “Ah, Colonel Tavington.  I was beginning to wonder whether you were going to join us,” Cornwallis said. 

            “My apologies, Sir,” William said as he took his seat beside Bordon.  His second command looked askance at him, but welcomed him warmly all the same. 

            The food and the wine were both excellent, and much to his surprise, the men seated around him made an effort to include him in their conversation.  William was thoroughly enjoying himself when one of the servants whispered to him that a messenger waited for him in the hall. 

            “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, and followed the servant through the doorway. 

            One of his dragoons—Wilkins, he remembered the man’s name was—was pacing up and down the corridor.

            “What is it, Wilkins?” Tavington asked. 

            “I wouldn’t have interrupted your dinner, but I heard a rumor... One of Benjamin Martin’s children has taken ill.  He’s being taken to a doctor in a nearby town as we speak. 

            A predatory gleam sprang up in the Colonel’s eye.  “Is the Ghost with his child?” he asked. 

            “Not that I’ve heard.  I asked, but no one’s seen him for weeks.  I simply thought you’d want to know.”  Wilkins looked expectantly at William for an answer. 

            The Colonel was silent.  He knew that this choice, this first, hard test, would be a difficult one.  He sighed.  There would be other days, other battles. 

            “If there is no sign of the Ghost, then leave the child alone,” he said.  “After all, it is Christmas Day.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Wilkins said.  He marched back down the hall, his boot heels striking loudly on the floorboards. 

William turned and walked through the open door to rejoin the festivities.